


Never Ask a Lawyer to Sign It Without Reading It

by ScreechTheMighty



Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Jessica Jones is in this for like ten seconds, Missing Scene, Rated for swearing, You probably shouldn't read this if you're Team Iron Man and/or like Tony Stark, basically why Matt isn't in the movie, because WHOOO BOY, during and post civil war, matt is anxious about everything all the time, post daredevil season 2, slightly wonky timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6833110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreechTheMighty/pseuds/ScreechTheMighty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OR why Daredevil wasn't in Captain America: Civil War.</p><p>Written for my friend Ben, who is awesome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to again stress that you probably/definitely shouldn't read this if you're Team Iron Man. I am not kind to Tony in this fic. Don't get me wrong, I feel bad for him for the first time in any Marvel movie I've ever watched. But I do not agree with him. At all.
> 
>  
> 
> [Click here for a more in-depth look at why the Accords are unconstitutional.](http://thelegalgeeks.com/2016/05/10/why-the-sokovia-accords-are-unconstitutional/)

There was no such thing as a quiet night in Hell’s Kitchen. Or anywhere in New York, for that matter. Even if crime was down, there was always noise. People talking, music playing, cars driving by. Matt knew how to isolate the sounds that meant trouble. Or, in this case, the unusual sounds below that _could’ve_ meant trouble.

Steady heartbeat. Shoes that sounded expensive. A faint, continuous whirring noise, something electronic but _what_ he wasn’t sure. He didn’t smell any accelerants, so it _probably_ wasn’t a bomb. What he _did_ smell was cologne that probably cost a month in rent.

_Who are you?_

He walked along the edge of the rooftop, following the sound. It stopped just as he hit the edge of the building. The heart rate skipped a few beats—surprised, or excited. “There room on that roof for two?” called a voice.

Matt froze. Not just because he’d been spotted (though that didn’t happen a lot—most people never thought to look _up_ , even though they _knew_ he was around); he froze because he _knew_ that voice. He’d heard it on the news more than once. Tony Stark was in Hell’s Kitchen. _Iron Man_ was in Hell’s Kitchen.

_Why do I get the feeling this is going to end badly?_

“…sure,” Matt called back down. “Come on up.”

It didn’t sound like Stark had the suit. Then again, his gadgets were so damn fancy, whatever it was that was making the noise could’ve contained the whole suit. Still, Matt got ready to run as he waited for Stark to emerge from the roof access door. _He’ll have the advantage of the air, but if I can stay on the ground, maybe get to some sewage tunnels…_ The door opened. Stark wasn’t holding anything, but the noise was coming from his hand. Whatever it was, it whined faintly and made a metallic clicking when Stark flexed his hand. “I’m guessing you didn’t come up here through the front door?” There was a grin in Stark’s voice; he sounded exactly like he did on TV. Probably turning on the charm. “It’s Daredevil, right? I’m…”

“Tony Stark. I know who you are.” Matt kept his distance. “What do you want?” _How much do you know about me? Am I under arrest right now? Have the Avengers finally had enough of me running around?_

“Relax, DD, you’re not in any trouble.” Matt frowned. _Did he just call me DD?_ “Actually, I’m here to offer you a job.”

Okay. Iron Man wasn’t here looking for a fight. He was here about…a job? What? “Are you restructuring the team or something?” Matt asked. “I thought you weren’t on the Avengers anymore. After Sokovia.”

There was a rustling of fabric—Matt assumed Stark just shrugged. “There’s been a change of plans. Are you from around here?”

 _What, you don’t know?_ Matt had the feeling he would’ve said something by now if he did. Still, he kept his guard up. “Yeah. Why?”

“So you were here when the Incident happened?”

Right. The Incident. Death and destruction and goddamn _aliens_ coming from the sky. He was lucky to be alive, honestly. A lot of people hadn’t been so lucky. “I was here. I don’t see why that matters.”

“Did you lose anyone?”

“…no, I got lucky. _Why?_ ” _Where are you going with this, Stark?_ Matt tried to remember everything that Stark had been involved with lately. It was hard. He hadn’t been paying as much attention to national or international news. Just what was going on in the city. “Is this about…whatever happened with the UN?”

“Something like that.” Stark paced while he talked; he might’ve been gesturing, too. He was a businessman, a salesperson. Even if Matt couldn’t see it, he was sure Stark was putting on that mask. “The Incident. DC. Sokovia. What happened in Lagos. There’s been a lot of collateral damage with what the Avengers have been doing.”

Okay. Matt was definitely being sold something, and he was starting to get the idea of _what_ he was being sold. “You can’t blame the Avengers for the Incident. That was aliens. You guys stopped them. And didn’t the government launch that nuke?” Stark’s footsteps stopped. “I get why people were angry, but you can’t completely blame yourself. That’s the job. You do what you can, but you can’t always…” His hands clenched slightly at the memory of a morgue, Karen’s muffled sobs, that’s awful sound of Foggy’s voice breaking later at Josie’s. “You can’t always keep people from getting hurt. But that doesn’t mean you _stop._ ”

“I’m not saying we stop. I’m saying that…” Stark’s footsteps started again, then stopped. “Maybe we shouldn’t be the ones making all the decisions.” _Oh, God in heaven, give me strength, he’s actually going to try and sell me on this._ “Maybe if guys like us have something to keep us in check, people won’t get hurt.”

 _Don’t lump me in with you._ Matt almost said that. He bit back the comment, barely, and replaced it with a question: “The Accords, right?” He barely knew anything about them. They’d been about to ratify them before someone had bombed the UN, and they had something to do with putting safeguards in place for the Avengers. What sort of safeguards, he didn’t know. The document hadn’t been released to the public, and he hadn’t paid attention to what the talking heads had to say about it. Again, he mostly kept his focus on the city. That was his priority. But now… “You’re not coming here to ask me to sign, are you? Because from what I’ve heard, that’s _your_ issue. Not mine.”

“Not exactly, no.” Tony’s footsteps started up, stopped. Matt heard him sigh slightly. The whirring sound was muffled—hands in his pockets, maybe? “Not everyone on the team have agreed with the Accords. A few of them are actively going against them. If they keep this up, a lot of people are going to get hurt. I’m asking you to help me stop that from happening.” He paused. “That’s why you put on the suit, right? To keep people from getting hurt?”

Not a bad tactic. Appeal to Matt’s morality and desire to help. It wasn’t even a wrong assumption. He _had_ put on this suit to help people. _But what else am I signing away if I agree to this?_ The last few times Matt dealt with people who said they were _helping_ , one was a monster and the other was well-intentioned but still a murderer. “Which team members?”

Tony hesitated. His heart stuttered; he cleared his throat, so softly that anyone but Matt might not have been able to hear it. Bones creaked and fabric rustled as he adjusted his stance. Evasive. Trying to think of the best way to phrase this. “Is it Captain America?” Matt guessed.

“…Cap and I haven’t seen eye to eye on the issue, no.”

That was a big old red flag if Matt had ever heard one. “Did he say _why?_ ”

“He’s a big fan of jumping into the situation to help first and worrying about the consequences later.” Matt bit back a laugh; Stark must’ve seen that, if the confused tone his voice took was anything to go by. “What?”

“Nothing. You just reminded me of something for a second.” _You reminded me of everything Foggy has ever said about me._ “So, what safeguards are there?”

“We’d answer to a UN panel. They decide where, when, and how we go about doing things.”

“Who decides who’s on the panel?” No response at first. Matt heard an inhale, like Stark was _about_ to respond, but another thought occurred to him: “And…are you trying to say to me that this thing forces US citizens to serve a non-US governing body in military matters? Whether they want to or not? That sounds like conscription.”

“No one’s forcing them to sign. If they don’t like the Accords…”

“They just _quit?_ ” Matt frowned. “Your way or the highway is what you’re telling me.”

Again, silence. Stark’s heart rate had picked up. Matt knew that sound. That was the heart rate of a witness he had on the ropes. He kept pressing. “What happens if they sign and the panel sends them somewhere they don’t want to go? Or up against someone they don’t want to fight?”

“Well…”

“Or if there’s a clear and immediate threat but they don’t want to take action? Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for supporting the government, but they’re not exactly good at making decisions. What happens when one country’s interests conflict with another’s? More people will get hurt from inaction than they will from action.”

“We can put in amendments…”

“Put in… _after_ you’ve signed it? This thing was supposed to be ratified already. You can’t _fix it_ after it’s already in effect. Did you even _read_ this?”

 _Now,_ now Stark was annoyed. It showed in his heart rate, in the feeling of anger that Matt had no sensory data to back up but _knew_ was there, in his tone when he spoke: “We had to act. _I_ had to act.”

“So you didn’t read the document that’s going to affect how you operate as Iron Man for the rest of your career? And you expected everyone else to just go with it, too?” Matt crossed his arms. “I’m starting to see why Captain Rogers didn’t want to go along with this.”

Stark’s next words came out in a harsh, angry crack: “What _Captain Rogers_ is about to do is going to get people killed. You can agree with the Accords or not, but they’re in effect, he’s violating them, and he’s not going to stop. No matter how many people he hurts in the process. I’m asking you to help me stop him.”

“And…if I do that, I’d be going along with your Accords? Give up my freedom to act in my own city, to actually help people? Get dragged around the world to fight in conflicts I have no stake in because you and the UN snapped your fingers?” _Have to take off my mask and show the world who I am? God, no._ “No, thanks. This is your fight, Mr. Stark, not mine, and I don’t think you’d want me on your team, anyway. Clearly, I ask too many questions for your liking.”

Silence followed. For a second, Matt instinctively braced for a fight. The kind of anger he felt coming off of Stark usually lead to one. “You’re making a mistake,” Stark said finally.

“No, I don’t think I am.” His head tilted; he heard sirens, somewhere. Police…no, fire alarm. Better safe than sorry. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have people who actually need my help.”

He left before Stark could say anything else. Not that he had anything to say Matt wanted to hear.

 _You’re making a mistake._ Possibly. Matt had been making a lot of those lately. This was the first mistake he’d made in a while that he was glad to make. _You want to come after me for this, Stark? Come after me. It’s not like I have anything else to lose._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rolls over to post this chapter one million years late with starbucks* SO, this chapter is the reason for the "wonky timeline" tag. The first chapter is after season 2 of Daredevil and during Civil War, and this one is post-Civil War. The thing that makes it wonky is that I am physically incapable of writing Matt and Jessica as anything but friends, and they haven't actually met in the canon. So this will probably be noncanon by the time the Defenders rolls around. Whoops. Anyway, sorry for the delay, hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

He started paying attention to the news outside of Hell’s Kitchen. From everything he heard, turning down Tony Stark’s offer was the best thing he could’ve done.

The Avengers were on the run, injured, or staying out of the public eye. There was something about a _Giant Man_ , which was so above Matt’s paygrade that he didn’t bother looking into it further. And there was mention of someone new Stark had brought around. It wasn’t the news reports about the newcomer that caught Matt’s attention. It was the people talking about it at the grocery store the next day. “…kind of looked like that Spider Guy?”

Matt stopped, head tilted to one side so he could hear the people one aisle over better. “In Queens? I mean, kinda…”

“No, it was definitely him. I saw him beat up some muggers like, two months ago. How many other guys use web like that?” _Web_ _? Spider guy?_ Matt had no right to be judgmental and he knew it, but a  _spider_ theme? “I guess the Avengers are recruiting vigilantes now? I wonder if they’re gonna ask Daredevil next.”

Matt snorted loudly, and awkwardly tried to disguise the noise as a cough. _Oh, they tried. Daredevil didn’t take it so well._

So, there was another vigilante in town, one he didn't know anything about. Matt was kicking himself for not paying more attention to the shit happening outside the Kitchen. Good news: he knew someone who did.

“Spider Guy?”

“Or…spider something. That’s what they said at the store. From Queen’s.” Matt leaned against the wall and listened to Jessica Jones’s typing. “I just want to make sure there’s not going to be any trouble. If he’s in the Avengers’ pockets now, and staying local…”

“You gonna go to Queens and fight him, Murdock?”

“No. What makes you think that?”

“The fact that fighting them is your solution to everything. I’m surprised you didn’t get into a fist fight with Stark.” Her fingers paused. “He came to my place, too.”

Matt shouldn’t have been surprised by that. If anything, Jessica had a _bigger_ media presence than he did, after what had happened with Kilgrave. She was out, unmasked, and running her own private eye service as though everything were normal. As though she couldn’t pick Matt up right now and throw him through the wall with no effort. Finding her was easy. She didn’t hide anything. Matt envied her, sometimes. “What’d you say?”

“I didn’t say anything. I closed the door in his face.”

Matt laughed, startled. “What?!"

“Hey, whatever he had to say, I didn’t want to hear it. The Avengers can kiss my ass.” Matt’s laughter drowned out the sound of her typing. “Okay, Spider-something in Queens…I’m seeing some blog posts, looks like some conspiracy theory shit…oh, hello. Video.”

Matt waited. He could hear sounds—muffled voices, this weird sound he’d never heard before (a _thwip_ , almost), a pause, more of the same, a sudden screeching like car tires coming to an abrupt stop—but he couldn’t make sense of any of it. “Jessica,” he said, trying not to sound too impatient.

“Hold on.” Another video. Muffled sounds of a fight. More of that weird noise. “Huh.”

“Jessica, do I have to remind you that I’m blind?”

The small object, probably a paperclip, suddenly flying at him said _no, I don’t need the reminder, jackass_. He let it hit him in the face. He deserved that one. “You know that stupid thing you do with your stick?” Jessica asked.

“The grappling hook?”

“Yeah, that. He’s got that, except with… _webbing_ coming out of his wrists.”

“… _out_ of his wrists, out of his wrists or…?”

“I can’t tell. And he stopped a moving car.”

“ _What?!_ ”

“Would I shit you about this?”

She wouldn’t. “Are you sure it’s real?”

“Not _positive,_ but…” She sounded faintly amused. “C’mon, _Daredevil_ , look who you’re talking to.”

Fair point. Most of the stuff Jessica could do would be decried as _fake_ if posted online. Hell, half the stuff _he_ did probably looked fake. “So, he’s serious muscle.”

“Seriously _small,_ too. I bet you could take him.”

“Thanks.” Not that Matt _wanted_ to fight him. Despite Jessica’s earlier comment, he really had no interest in starting anything. He just wanted to see if the guy was going to be trouble. Stark convincing him to work for him wasn’t a great sign, but Stark was a salesman. All he had to do was find someone who’d fall for his pitch. Didn’t necessarily mean they agreed with everything Stark said, or would have any bad blood against Matt. Still, better safe than sorry.

Just one problem.

“Hey, are you doing anything today?”

“Nothing pressing. Why?”

“Do you think you could help me get to Queens?”

“…what, do you not know how to take the subway? A bus? _Walk?_ ”

“I mean…” Matt started fiddling with his cane, suddenly _very_ self-conscious. “Yeah. In theory. In practice, I haven’t actually…left Manhattan. Ever. In my life.”

He couldn’t see Jessica’s face, but he had a feeling she was staring at him with unadulterated disbelief. “You’re shitting me,” she said.

He was not shitting her. He’d never had a _reason_ to leave Manhattan before. He barely got out of the _Kitchen_ most days. “Look, before you start judging me…”

Jessica sighed noisily. The chair creaked as she stood up. “All right, let’s get this over with. You got a MetroCard?”

“…yeah, from… _college._ I don’t know where it is.”

“Jesus Christ, Murdock.”

He insisted on stopping back by his apartment for the suit. He couldn’t go up to the guy as just Matt Murdock, regular civilian. He had to be Daredevil. “Where are you going to get changed?” Jessica asked.

“I’ll think of something.” Matt kept a firm grip on her elbow as she lead him down the stairs. “Are you going to come, too?”

“Nah. I don’t need more super involvement in my life than I already have.”

“Are you saying I’m the only one for you, Jess?”

She punched his arm. It was, for Jessica, a shockingly gentle punch. “Asshole.”

“Yeah, I know.” Matt grimaced at the sound of the approaching train. Shrieking metal on metal. It threw his perception into disarray. Sounds were drowned out; smells, too, by the gust of air that brought with it the smells of the tunnel (garbage and rats and electricity and machinery). His perception of where things were, fueled as it was by air pressure and sound waves bouncing off things and a thousand other senses he didn’t have a name for, felt like it was dimmed by radio static. Screaming, awful radio static from hell. _God_ , this was why he didn’t take the subway. Matt gripped Jessica’s arm so tightly, he would’ve feared leaving bruises on anyone else. “ _Shit_.”

She patted his hand in what Matt assumed was an awkward attempt at comfort. “Sorry.” He could barely hear her over the stopping train. The sounds of it echoed in Matt’s ears even as she guided him forward onto the train. “Hey, it could be worse, right?”

“How could it _possibly_ be worse?”

“I dunno. It probably could.”

“You are just a shining beacon of optimism, Miss Jones.” At least she was able to find them a seat. Matt kept holding onto her arm. “Thanks.”

She nudged him. “Don’t throw up on me.”

“I won’t.”

He was pretty sure he wasn’t going to.

He focused on her to avoid throwing up; on the smell of her detergent (smelled like the stuff you got out of the machines at Laundromats), her soap (standard bar soap, probably got it off brand), her shampoo (smelled a bit nicer, Trish had probably gotten it for her), that lingering whiskey smell (cheap, _awful_ whiskey, but he still ended up having some every time he was at her apartment). He focused on the sound of her heartbeat, too. She had a strong heart. Steady. He’d heard it pick up sometimes, in certain situations, when certain people walked by, but it wasn’t doing that now. She was calm. Or maybe making herself be calm for his sake. If that was the case, he appreciated it. _Thank God I still have one friend._

That was a genuine prayer of gratitude.

Eventually, Jessica nudged Matt again. “Our stop.”

Time for another genuine prayer of gratitude: _Thank you God in heaven._ Taking the subway back was going to be a _nightmare,_ but at least it was over. For now.

“Our guy’s been spotted a lot not too far from here. If you keep going straight ahead…” Matt heard Jessica’s pockets rustling as she pulled out her phone to check something. “Yeah, up that way seems to be his territory. And he’s active in the day. I bet if you keep running around, he’ll notice.” She paused. “Seriously, what are you going to do about your…outfit change?”

Shit. He hadn’t thought about that. He’d been too busy trying not to freak out. Matt frowned. “Well, uh…listen, don’t laugh…”

“You’re gonna get changed behind a dumpster, aren’t you?”

He got changed behind a dumpster, with Jessica keeping watch outside. Even with his ears still ringing from the noise of the subway, he could hear her struggling not to laugh. “Shut up,” he said as he pulled on his mask.

“I’m not saying anything.”

“I can tell when you’re lying, Jessica. Where should we meet up? When I’m done?”

“Just call me when you’re done. I’ll let you know where I am.”

“Okay. Thanks again.”

“Mm-hmm. Tell your Spider Guy I said ‘hi’.”

Matt grinned at her and climbed up the nearest fire escape.

Getting around new parts of the city was a slow process. He knew Hell’s Kitchen as well as he knew his own pulse; every roof, every alley, every dumpster was mapped out in his head. He didn’t know Queens. He had to move slowly from rooftop to rooftop, stopping occasionally to tilt his head and get the lay of the land again. It was like the Kitchen, but different; a variation on the same themes. Familiar, but unfamiliar. Beautiful, in that way only the city could be.

After ten minutes of getting acquainted with Queens, Matt heard something new: a body in motion, heart racing, air displaced in _whooshes_ , and that _thwip_ he recognized from the videos. _Found you_. Matt stopped and waited. _Please don’t want a fight. Please don’t. I swear, I don’t want any trouble…_

“ _Holy shit!_ ”

_Okay, what?_

Matt was relieved to hear that the voice was happy…no, excited, which probably meant there wouldn’t be a fight. What threw him off was how _young_ the voice sounded. _Everything_ about him seemed young—his heart, the bouncing way he moved, but _especially_ his voice. “Dude!” The guy’s voice was muffled. A full face mask, Matt guessed. “Dude, you’re _Daredevil!_ ”

“…yeah. Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s me.” Matt smiled awkwardly. He didn’t know what to say. “And you’re…?”

“Spider Man! Yeah, uh…” Spider Man’s feet shuffled awkwardly. “Listen. Huge fan. What you’re doing in the Kitchen, it’s…”

“You are?” That made less sense than the guy’s possible age. “You…you’re serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious! You and…Jones! Jessica Jones! She operates out of the Kitchen, too!” Matt’s smile turned incredulous. Spider Man had heard of Jessica Jones. He was a _fan_ of hers. Oh, she was going to _love this._ “What you guys are doing, helping people like that, it’s… _crazy_. I’m a big fan. I already said that. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s…it’s fine.” Now Matt _really_ didn’t know what to say. He'd once said to Wilson Fisk that others would see what he was doing and take his place; he'd heard from the police in the Kitchen that short-lived vigilantes had been following his example. He'd just never spoken to any of them. “Uhm, I was just…dropping in to see…” He licked his lips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“How _old_ are you?”

There was a pause. Spider Man’s heartbeat picked up. _I am not going tolike this answer, am I?_ “Eighteen?” Matt didn’t need to hear the guy’s heartbeat to know he was lying. It was written all over his voice (hesitant, wary, caught off-guard). He crossed his arms and tilted his head skeptically. “Uh, seventeen?” Nope. Still lying. Matt kept what he hoped was a _I know you’re full of shit_ expression on his face; he figured channeling his memories of his dad’s expression when he caught Matt reading after bed would do the trick. After another long pause, Spider Man sighed heavily. “Sixteen. I’m sixteen.”

That one was the truth. And Matt didn’t like it at _all_.

“Six-Jesus Christ, kid. Don’t you have school?!” It occurred to Matt that he was probably still channeling his dad right then. He didn’t care. It was a legitimate concern. “You can’t even get a driver’s license, _shit…_ ” Tony Stark enlisted this guy. Tony Stark enlisted a goddamn kid. Matt suddenly found himself fighting that awful, devil-clawing-its-way-out-his-throat feeling of anger. He tried to swallow it back down. He didn’t want to freak the kid out. “I’m sorry, I just…are you sure this is a good idea?”

Spider Man—the kid, God, thinking of him as Spider Man when he was sixteen goddamn years old was too much—shuffled again. “Try to hit me.”

“…what?”

“Go on. Try to hit me.”

Matt frowned.  “I’m not sure I feel…”

“You’re not gonna land the punch.”

The reckless part of Matt wanted to take that as a dare. The rest of him couldn’t get over the fact that he’d be hitting a kid half his age. Still, he put up his hands. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah. Totally. Try to hit me.”

Matt did—okay, he didn’t really. It was a half-hearted punch, would’ve been a love tap if it’d landed. It didn’t. The kid sidestepped it easily. “C’mon, that wasn’t a punch”

“I’m trying not to hurt you.” Matt’s next punch had a bit more effort put into it. The kid still dodged it, _far_ too easily. Matt frowned and kept going after him—not hard enough to hurt him, of course. Sparring level. The kid kept on dodging his punches. More than that, he actually successfully grabbed Matt and managed to flip him with very little effort. One second Matt was on his feet; the next, he was flat on his back on the roof. He’d been thrown harder, so it didn’t hurt, but it caught him off-guard. _Guess that video of him stopping a car was real._

“See?” Matt could sense the kid hovering over him. “I can handle myself.”

 “Yeah, I see.” He held out a hand; the kid helped him to his feet without question. “So you can dodge a punch. And…bench press cars, and shoot webbing out your hands. How…?”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Can I get the Cliffnotes version?”

“Scientific study of radiation has gone too far? The webbing is synthetic, though. I don’t have organic webshooters in my wrist. _That’d_ be weird.”

Matt huffed quietly. The kid wasn’t wrong. It was just strange to think that their _weird_ threshold was now at _can shot webs out of their wrist_ , not _sixteen year old can toss a fully grown man_ or _woman can jump several stories into the air_ or even _blind man can fight crime._ Not even aliens were _that_ weird to anyone anymore. What a world. “So you get your…abilities…and you put the suit on and start the Spider Man thing? Why?”

A pause, a soft expulsion of breath behind the mask, creaking of whatever the suit was made of as the kid shifted. Uncomfortable sounds. “I dunno. I just felt like…when the bad things happen, and you can do the things I do, and you don’t do anything to stop it? You’re responsible, too. I didn’t want to stand by and let them happen, y’know?”

Matt knew. God help him, he knew exactly what that felt like. “Me, too,” he admitted quietly. He finally broke off fake eye-contact with the kid. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I don’t think you should be doing this. _Listen._ ” He heard that protest coming—the sharp intake of breath, the way his bones creaked as he straightened up and the grit on the rooftop crunched as the kid took a step closer. “It’s not that I doubt you can handle yourself. It’s that…I’ve been doing this for a while now, kid, and it’s _hard._ It’s dangerous, and you shouldn’t have the weight of the world on your shoulders. Not at your age. Maybe not ever.” _The bad things aren’t your fault_ , he wanted to say, but how could he say that when _he_ didn’t even believe it? “I need you to understand, if you go ahead with this, you’re going to get hurt, a lot. You’re going to feel alone, a lot. You’re going to have to…to decide who you can trust, and decide fast, because all of this? The mask, the powers? You can’t keep it to yourself.” Matt’s gut twisted as he thought about Foggy walking out of his apartment, about the disbelief and betrayal in Karen’s voice after he finally told her. “Secrets only bring trouble. Take it from a guy who’s kept too many of them.”

He heard the kid swallow—a hard, anxious sound. “Okay.”

“And don’t kill anyone.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Some things you can’t come back from.” He’d seen that, too. Almost become it himself. “And for God’s sake, don’t try to take on an entire organized crime ring by yourself. And if a guy named Frank Castle rolls into town, let the police handle it. Or…come get me. Just ask me for help if you ever need it.”

The kid’s heart skipped. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, I mean it.” Matt’s common sense said he didn’t need more on his plate, but…shit, he couldn’t _not_ offer some help. “I still don’t think you should be doing this, but I’m not your dad, so…” He sighed and smiled, resigned. “I can’t exactly stop you. Least I can do is make sure you have backup.”

Damn, the kid sounded like he was bouncing a bit. His voice was excited, too, when he spoke: “Okay. Okay, I’ll remember that. Yeah. Thank you. Thank you so much, uh…Mr. Daredevil?”

Matt _barely_ held back a laugh at that. “Uh…Mike. You can call me Mike for now.” Maybe, one day, he’d tell the kid who he really was. For now, _Mike_ would do. “And hey, one more thing…”

“Yeah?”

“Tony Stark. He didn’t…make you sign anything, right? Or…”

“Oh, no, no, I’m not an Avenger or anything now. God, that’d be crazy, but he said not yet. I guess the Sokovia Accords don’t cover what we do? Or he never said they did. So I didn’t have to sign. Uhm, he helped me with some new tech, but that’s it.”

_Thank God._ “Look, it sounds like he’s helped you out, so I don’t want to…cause any trouble, but if he asks you for any more _help_ …”

“You don’t think I should.”

“Like I said, it’s your life, but I wouldn’t.”

“…he asked you, didn’t he?”

Damn. _You’re a quick study, Spidey._ “Yeah. I declined. I’m no good in a war zone, and…Avengers politics aren’t something I want to be caught up in. That’s all it is. Like…” He rolled his eyes. “Goddamn _Mean Girls_ with superpowered beings.”

That got the kid to laugh. “Yeah, Mr. Stark didn’t tell me too much, but that’s what it sounds like to me, too. From everything I’ve read afterwards, anyway.”

That wiped the smile right off Matt’s face. How could Stark bring the kid in and _not tell him much?_ How much had this kid not found out until after the fact? He scrambled to recover his fmile but he knew he didn’t hide his facial expressions well. The kid would’ve seen that look. “It’s a mess. That’s one thing guys like you and I don’t have to deal with, at least.”

If the kid noticed the way Matt’s expression had changed, he didn’t react to it. “I guess not.”

That angry feeling was starting to simmer in Matt’s chest. He wasn’t going to be able to keep it tapped down for long. “Hey, listen, I should…head out, I think. Like I said, if you need anything, I’m always in the Kitchen. I’m not too hard to find.”

“Yeah, guy running around in a devil suit…” The kid laughed. “Hey, thanks Mr. D- _Mike_. Thanks, Mike.”

“No problem.” Matt held out his hand; he felt the kid take it. Firm grip, trustworthy grip. “See you around, Spidey.”

They both left the roof, the kid flying off with a few more _thwip_ noises, Matt jumping across to the next roof over. He knew he should’ve called Jessica, get started on getting back to Manhattan before it got too late. But his emotions were starting to bubble up inside him and he knew he needed to blow off steam. He didn’t want to be mad in front of her. He didn’t want to take the subway when his emotions were heightened—it’d make the sensory overload worse, like salt in an open wound. There wasn’t much to hit, and he didn’t want to cause a scene by beating up criminals in Queens in the middle of the afternoon. So, he ran, just running from roof to roof until his legs ached and his lungs burned. Eventually, he calmed down enough to call Jessica, but one thought remained lodged in his head.

He and Tony Stark were going to have _words._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I couldn't remember if Peter had a canon age, so I went with sixteen because that seemed like a safe bet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter took FOREVER, I know. I'm sorry. I was having a hard time with it. My salvation RE: finishing this chapter came in the form of the three-day power outage we've had thanks to Hurricane Matthew. Thanks for forcing me into productivity, Hurricane Matthew, you dick. Anyway, I'm posting this with the last bit of fast data I have left with my phone plan. Consider it a celebration of Luke Cage season one and that recent Iron Fist trailer.

Finding Tony Stark was the easy part. He was a very public figure, which meant his movements were sometimes broadcast around the whole damn city. _Tony Stark to Attend Charity Gala_. Not the most ideal circumstances for a one on one chat, but it was probably the best chance Matt would have. He found the place by himself; he could’ve asked Jessica to help him there (or, hell, even get in, if he asked Trish _very_ nicely), but he didn’t want her to know what he was going to do. She’d probably talk him out of it. He didn’t _want_ to be talked out of it. _Someone_ had to say something to that man, and Matt doubted anyone else was going to do it. Men like Tony Stark didn’t get told they were wrong. They were too big, too wealthy. It wasn’t right.

_Someone has to say something._

He crouched on a rooftop near the gala and waited. There were a lot of voices in the building, a lot of smells coming from it. He remembered another party a long time ago, caviar on Foggy’s breath and expensive scotch resting on his tongue. A familiar voice, _he’s with me_ …

Matt shook off the memory and went back to listening for Stark. His voice was less familiar, but Matt had spent the day listening to interviews so he’d recognize it, even in a crowd. It was a salesman’s voice, all glib and charm, skipping from conversation to conversation casually. Matt’s head tilted as he tracked the voice. _What are you going to do, anyway?_ he thought to himself. _What if he gets in a car and goes home? Someplace you don’t know? How are you going to get back? What are you even going to say to him?_

He didn’t have an answer to any of those questions. Honestly, he was making this up as he went. Just as he was about to start berating himself for that, he caught Stark’s voice saying, _I’m going to get some air._ Bingo. Matt focused as hard as he could, filtering out any distractions. After a few minutes, he caught a single heartbeat in an isolated spot outside the building. He risked moving forward. As he did, he heard a familiar electronic whirring, and smelled the same cologne Stark had been wearing the day they spoke in the Kitchen.

_Got you._

Matt didn’t think; he didn’t give himself _time_ to think. He dropped into the alley in front of Stark and slammed him into the alley wall, one hand covering the man’s mouth. “What the _hell were you thinking?!_ ” he snarled, fierce but quiet. They could still be overheard, and _Daredevil Assaults Avengers Leader_ was _not_ a headline he wanted to hear about.

Stark didn’t call for help. He brought his hand up; the whirring was suddenly right next to Matt’s ear, and a simmering heat with it. It occurred to Matt that he was having a very small laser beam gun pointed at his face. He didn’t care. The anger had overridden any other emotion, even fear. Anyway, Stark didn’t fire. He said something; when Matt lowered his hand, he repeated it in a trembling voice: “What the _hell?!_ ”

“ _You brought a goddamn kid…_ ”

“Is that what this is about?!”

“ _…into a war zone, didn’t even tell him everything…!_ ”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you’d agreed, I wouldn’t have had to ask him!”

Matt’s eyes widened behind his mask. He didn’t intend to punch the wall next to Stark’s head; it just _happened,_ so hard and fast that his hand ached from the impact. “ _Don’t pin this on me!_ Don’t you _fucking dare…!_ ”

The heat was right up in Matt’s face again. Still, Stark didn’t fire. “Look, if you want to yell at me, can we at least do it like civilized people, with some distance between us?” Stark said. His heart was racing, and a smell of sweat and adrenaline was starting to mix with that expensive cologne. The smell of alcohol was heavy on his breath—not _heavy_ , not like Jessica, or some of the regulars at Josie’s, but obvious. He’d had more than a few in there. Probably wouldn’t get far if he ran. Matt was still hesitant to let go, but he did.

“There. Distance. What the _hell_ were you thinking?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of _your_ business.” Matt heard a rustling of fabric as Tony adjusted his suit. “You didn’t have to hunt him down. He’s fine.”

“You could’ve gotten him _killed_. What did you tell him, anyway? Did you give him the same spiel you gave me? Or did you just dazzle him with the Iron Man routine and get him to do whatever you said?”

“I told him something bad was going to happen if he didn’t help. Which is _true_.”

“Oh, _please_ , bad like what? Huh? Is the whole world going to fall apart just because Captain America didn’t sign a piece of paper?”

“I told you, he was going to get people _killed_.”

“Yeah, and from what I heard, the only people who got hurt got hurt because _you_ got involved. If you…”

He should’ve heard it coming. The punch was big, obvious, _sloppy_ , but Matt had been too caught up in his rage to hear it. Despite the clumsiness of the blow, Stark still managed to land a pretty solid hit, with the miniature laser gun hand, no less. Matt staggered back. “Shut up,” Stark said. His voice was still trembling, but it was a different kind of trembling. Angry. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You weren’t there.”

Matt spat blood off to one side. His face stung where the blow had landed, but he’d been hit harder. He’d live. “Maybe. But I didn’t have to be there to know that you didn’t give _me_ all the information, much less that kid. You manipulated him.  You tried to manipulate _me_ …” The words suddenly stuck in Matt’s throat. “You tried to manipulate us both into fighting your stupid war for you.” And now his voice was shaking. Shit, where had this come from? “And he could’ve died. And that would’ve been on you.”

Stark didn’t respond at first. When he did, there was a calculated blankness to his voice: “I know.”

Matt hadn’t expected that response. “What?”

“You heard me. I fucked up. There. Are you satisfied?” Stark took a step closer. Matt braced himself for another punch, but it didn’t come. “I know I did. I know people got hurt, and I know it could’ve been a lot worse. But I was _trying_ to keep something worse from happening. I was trying…” The blankness cracked; some exhaustion peeked through. “Who am I kidding? You don’t care about what I was trying to do.”

Matt still felt shaken—both angry and a little bit frantic. But something about that exhaustion did pierce his emotional armor. Maybe it was because it sounded familiar. Too familiar. “…You’re right,” he said finally. “I don’t care. Not because I disagree with you, but because that doesn’t make any of this right. What you did…” It occurred to him that his words might not have been meant entirely for Stark anymore. “Intention doesn’t matter. You still have to live with the consequences.”

No, his words definitely weren’t just meant for Stark anymore. And the other man seemed to realize that, too. “You sound like you know what you’re talking about,” Stark said in a fairly blatant attempt to re-direct the conversation.

“Don’t. _Don’t_.”

More cloth rustled—Matt assumed that was a shrug. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. So, is this all you came to do? To yell at me? Or were you planning on bringing me in for justice?”

“No.” The fact that Matt didn’t _actually_ have a plan for this conversation hit him all over again. _Good job, idiot._ There was one other thing he could think to say: “I came here to tell you to stay away from the kid."

Stark scoffed. There was a frantic edge to it. “C’mon, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Leave him alone. Leave Jessica Jones alone. Leave _me_ alone. We don’t need your bullshit. We’ve got enough of our own. We’re don’t want any part of this.”

Stark cleared his throat. His clothed rustled again—sounded like a collar being tugged on, almost, the silk of his tie creaking as it strained against the motion. “…you might not have a choice,” Stark said. “If they’ve come for us, they’re going to come for you. I hear they’re still thinking about going after Jones.” Matt bristled at the mention of Jessica’s name, and the murder case still hanging over her head. Hogarth had managed to beat off the hounds for now. No one wanted to create the precedence of _mind control_ as a viable defense. Everyone and their aunt would be using it. But the risk was always there, always hovering over her. All it would take was one attorney deciding to make an example of Jessica and her life could be over. “If you work with me, things might go easier on you. I’m really trying…”

Matt gritted his teeth and turned to walk away. Stark’s voice took a sharp, frustrated tone: “ _I’m trying to help here!_ ”

_Stop trying. Stop trying to help. Just_ stop.

He didn’t say that aloud. If he did, he’d start yelling. He might turn around a start throwing punches. The angry feeling rising up in his throat demanded blood, but he couldn’t satisfy it. Not now. Not with Tony Stark. Not when this entire conversation had been an exercise in frustration.

_Just stop._

He left.

He could’ve stayed out on the streets—he _should’ve_ stayed out on the streets. He was being serious when he told Foggy that when he took a night off, people got hurt. But he was afraid of what he’d do if he went out. He was afraid of who he might hurt, irreparably. He went home. He ripped off the mask the second he was securely in his apartment. His gloves went next. He sat on the couch and ran his fingers through his hair.

His chest felt tight. The exact reason why, beyond the rage still bubbling in his gut, was lost on him. Matt tried to pick apart the conversation and work out exactly _what_ had pissed him off so badly.

_Maybe if you’d agreed, I wouldn’t have had to ask him._ Matt knew, on a purely academic level, that this wasn’t true. He knew that Stark’s actions weren’t on him. He couldn’t tell if the way the words raced through his head was out of disbelief that Stark would blame his actions on Matt, or if it was because some part of him believed them. He remembered all the times Claire had talked to him about martyrdom, called him _Saint Matthew_ , and found that he couldn’t deny any of it. He took a lot on his shoulders. He blamed himself for plenty of things without help from other people. He might knew that it wasn’t his fault. But…

_Enough with the hair shirt, Saint Matthew._

Easier said than done.

_You tried to manipulate us both into fighting your stupid war for you._ Matt stood by those words. How else was he supposed to react? Stark had thrown half-information at them and expected them to fall in line. Matt understood why he was mad about that. He had every right to be. What he didn’t understand was why he felt _shaken_ by it. Where the sense of déjà-vu had come from. His hands clenched anxiously; he felt an ache in his knuckles. Imagined a person with an old voice and the smell of blood under his fingernails sitting in the chair across from him, asking for his help without giving him the full story. Once. Twice. Again.

He pushed the thought away.

_If they’ve come after us, they’ll come after you._ That was the thought that sent his mind racing anxiously again. Matt had done a lot, lied to people he’d _cared_ about, in order to keep his dual identity a secret. If people knew who he was, it wouldn’t just be him losing everything. It would be Foggy, it would be Karen, it would be Claire, it would be anyone he’d ever given a damn about. They’d already lost enough because of him. And what about Jessica? Her life was difficult enough without the threat of the goddamn government coming in and trying to drag her into something she didn’t want. And what about the others? She’d hinted that there were others like her, although she’d never said explicitly who or how many. Matt believed it. The two of them and Kilgrave couldn’t be the only people who’d gotten abilities in some freak accident or calculated experiment. Especially when the world was in some kind of crazy arms race to get the next superpowered human on their team. What if making them wasn’t good enough? What if seeking them out and _enlisting_ them was the next step?

Anxiety curled in his throat. Matt clutched at his hair. The crushing weight of every swirling emotion the conversation had brought on settled onto his shoulders. No, not just the conversation; the weight of _everything_. The conversation. The meeting with the kid. The initial meeting with Tony Stark. The fact that Jessica could be charged with murder at any time. Everything that had happened with Frank Castle and the Hand and Fisk. Elektra’s death. Everything Stick had brought into his life.

Everything that had happened to him since he’d pushed that old man out of the patch of that truck.

It was the crushing weight of a life where things only seemed to get worse, and the certainty that more was looming on the horizon. That the meeting with Tony Stark and all the politics and conflict he’d brought with him had only been the beginning.

It was the weight of the thought that he might not be able to handle it.

He didn’t go back out that night. He didn’t sleep, either. He sat on the couch, letting the thoughts chase each other around his head until he was too tired to think. When he hit that point, Matt just sat there. His fingers traced the seams of his suit. He didn’t take it off.

Eventually, the light of the sun warmed the large glass window in his apartment. A beeping sounded from the bedroom—his alarm clock. Matt finally got up, slowly and mechanically, and walked to the bedroom to shut it off. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, hand resting atop the machine, trying to scrounge up the energy to get out of his suit and into more day-appropriate clothes. There was only one thought left in his head now: _what if I can’t handle it?_

He had an answer for that, at least. _You don’t have any choice_.

He got out of the suit. He showered and put on civilian clothes—jeans, sweater, tennis shoes. He thought about his dad’s old mantra. _Ain’t how you hit the mat, it’s how you get up._ It had always sounded triumphant when he was a kid. As he got older, he realized that it wasn’t. Not always. Getting back up was exhausting. It was hard. And being on your feet didn’t mean you were going to win. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure if it was better than staying down.

But it was what his dad had always done. If you lose, lose standing up. No matter how much getting up hurt, you stand. If he couldn’t honor his father’s wish not to lose on his feet, he could at least honor that. So he finished lacing up his shoes, unfolded his cane, and walked to the door. _I should talk to Jessica,_ he decided. _We can talk about what we should do._

There might not be much they could do. But they could at least try. And if Stark and the UN or whoever else wanted to bring them down? At least maybe they could go down swinging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through these very slow updates. I hope you enjoyed the fic! If you want to yell with me about how the Accords are stupid and Tony needs to Stop, I'm on tumblr at screechthemighy.tumblr.com.


End file.
